Temperance Brennan, Enigma
by ShadowDanseur
Summary: I don’t want to take that security away from her, but I can’t help it. Protecting Temperance Brennan is second nature to me." Just a look into some of Booth's thoughts on his partner.


**_Author's Note: Second Bones fic! Woot. I'm not sure where this idea came from really, I just kinda started typing and this is what came out. :) Anyway, reviews are always welcome. If you find spelling errors or the like I apologize, I didn't review this a whole lot before posting. Hopefully I was able to keep everyone in character, but I do have trouble writing Brennan sometimes. Maybe I should get a beta ... hmm. Enjoy everyone!_**

**_Disclaimer: Still not my property. Damn ..._**

**_Spoilers: None._**

**Temperance Brennan, Enigma.**

Temperance Brennan is the strangest woman I have ever met.

I had no idea that someone could be so … literal and logical. I've gotten used to it by now, but when I first met her, I didn't know what to make of it. She literally drove me crazy. That and the fact that she is seemingly utterly cut off from pop culture … which is ironic considering that she can rattle off hundreds of facts about ancient civilizations. She knows all of that by rote and yet, somehow, is completely ignorant of her own culture. I used to get so frustrated with it, with her. Now, however, I welcome it. I love that about her.

I resist the urge to snort in derision. I wonder what psycho babble Sweets would rattle off if I admitted that. God only knew. I shake off the thought and glance around Bones' office again. I've been in here for the last fifteen minutes, waiting for her to get off that damn phone. I think she's talking to her publisher about her latest book. She's sitting at her desk, staring intently at her computer screen while browsing through the latest case file. Apparently multi-tasking is another one of her gifts.

Just then she glances over at me and rolls her eyes, which makes me smile. I'm perched on her couch - well, now I'm kinda stretched out and relaxing, but hey. May as well get comfy if I'm going to be here for awhile. Outside her office, the lab is shutting down. I can hear Cam and Angela discussing what they're going to order from the diner. Somehow, it has apparently become a tradition of all of ours to meet up at the diner after a particularly grueling case. We all just kinda filter over there as we lock everything up, although Bones and I are usually the last to arrive. She's very particular about being the last one out, and after everything we've been through I'm not about to let her stay here alone.

"Hey, Sweetie, we'll meet you over at the diner," Angela's voice pipes up as she pokes her head in the door. Bones nods and utters an "Ok, see you there," and the others disappear. Bones goes back to whatever she's fiddling with on her computer - the whole exchange took only a few seconds, and then the lab and her office are quiet. She must be on hold.

Bones' office is a strange mixture of scientist and woman. Everything is so neat and ordered, like Bones herself. Books aligned perfectly, surfaces dusted … when does she find time to dust? Her desk is the only thing that shows signs of use, really, the top littered with various manila folders. The desk also happens to be the most personal piece of furniture in the room. Her jacket hung over the back of her chair, several post it notes stuck to her desk in various places, and I think I can even see a pair of earrings from here.

"Come on, Bones," I mutter, starting to get restless. I really hate useless waiting. I'm sure whatever she needs to talk to her publisher about is important, but there's food calling my name. Food and good company. I would never really admit it, but I look forward to unwinding with the squints. Ever since the thing with Zach …

That thought made me glance at Bones again. She had taken that so hard, harder than she wanted anyone to know. Zach had been - was - her golden boy. She had invested a lot of time and confidence in him. After everything that had happened with her father and brother, then to have Zach betray her like that… well, it was a hard blow. Such a strange mixture of logic and emotion, Bones. In the terms of logic, there aren't many minds that can compete with Bones. She's a genius, really and truly. Her brilliance and knack for seeing even the smallest detail had helped us solve dozens of cases. She is invaluable. Emotionally, well … Bones has a lot of heart. She has such a capacity for love. Her social ineptitude has nothing to do with a lack of emotion.

"Bones, we've got to get going," I urge her. I don't say it, but I have got to get the diner, where there are distractions. I really don't wanna continue down the road this train of thought seems to be driving me down, but without an outward distraction I'm a sitting duck.

"Go on without me," Bones encourages, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder, "I'll be there as soon as I'm done."

"Oh no," I reply, "You have a knack for finding trouble."

"Booth, I can take care of myself," She insists

"Regardless, I'm not leaving here without you. Just hurry up already."

"Sometimes you are so irrational, Booth."

"Yeah yeah yeah," I mutter.

I shift in my spot again, trying not to appear as antsy as I am. Considering my job, patience isn't usually hard for me to come by. I don't know why I seem to lack that patience tonight, but I really wish it would come back.

Bones must have finally gotten her publisher on the phone cause she's started talking. I have no idea what they're talking about and it doesn't really interest me, so I don't put too much effort into trying to hear what they're talking about. Knowing that she's on the phone with her publisher brings up another memory; Bones told me once that her publisher wanted to hire someone to pose as her. According to her publisher, it would help her sell her books. Even now, sometime after she mentioned it, I still want to punch that man. For him to suggest that Bones wasn't beautiful … beyond that, for him to suggest that her skill and talent wasn't enough infuriates the hell out of me.

We've been through a lot, Bones and I. We don't always agree or understand one another, but we've gotten pretty … close because of all that. I tend to get a little defensive when other people try to discredit her merits. Actually, I get defensive when anyone does or says anything to Bones that I don't like. I have no idea when I started doing that, but I've really started to notice it lately. I'm starting to wonder if Bones is catching on to that little tidbit as well. I hope not. She loves her independence, and knowing that she can take care of herself to a certain degree. I don't want to take that security away from her, but I can't help it. Protecting Temperance Brennan is second nature to me.

Bones is wrapping up her phone call, thankfully. The idea of pie is close to making my mouth water in anticipation. She hangs up her phone at the same time she glances my way. She looks tired, but her blue eyes are still radiant. I love her eyes … I shake my head abruptly. What the hell is wrong with me? I can't be thinking about Bones like that.

"You about ready to eat?" I query, "Cause there's a piece of pie with my name on it."

"That pie isn't going anywhere, Booth," She answers good naturedly

"Not the point, Bones."

She rolls her eyes at me and stands up from her chair, stretching as she does so. It's close to six thirty now and it's dark outside, and probably cold as well. I didn't grab my jacket this morning, but it's not a long walk to the diner. Besides, I'm sure Bones can rattle off some kind of scientific jargon to keep my mind off of the cold. Trying to decipher what she says can give me a real headache sometimes.

She grabs her jacket off the back of her office chair and slides it on, my cue to stand. My mind is already racing ahead to what I should order from the diner as she's shutting down her computer and arranging the files on her desk.

I think Bones is hungry, cause she's tidied up her desk and slid into her coat pretty quickly. We're leaving her office a mere ten minutes after the end of her phone call, and as we make our way to the elevator she starts to fill me in on the conversation with her editor.

"Anything big?" I ask

"Not really, just trying to decide whether or not we should sell the movie rights to my latest book."

"And what did you decide?"

"Nothing, actually," She says on a sigh, "He's all for it, but I'm just not sure."

"What? Why not?"

"I dunno, I just … it's hard."

"Why? Because you can't control the filming?" I prod

"What? Booth, that's ridiculous. I didn't say anything to suggest that …"

"It's okay, Bones. You spent a lot of time on that book, on developing the plot and the characters. It's natural not to want to hand it over to someone else."

"It is?" She asks, seemingly unsure

"Of course it is. But you know what? It's been a long day. You can make a decision about the movie tomorrow. Tonight, let's just go to the diner and enjoy some good food and some good company."

She smiles that smile at me, the one that lights up a room like a fluorescent light bulb. I don't get to see that smile as often as I would like, so when I do it just makes the moment that more special. Her smile brings out an answering smile in me, and I'm still smiling when we get to the diner.

The others have already procured a table for us, and Bones slides into the seat beside Angela while I sit in the seat across from her, next to Cam. After they heckle us for making them wait to eat the menus are passed around and the conversation turns to what everyone thinks the others should order. It's a simple chaos, really.

Angela is apparently the first to have made up her mind on what to eat, so she turns her attention to Brennan. I can't hear what they're saying so I assume it's girl talk. Sometimes, it amazes me how those two have ended up best friends. From an outside point of view, they don't seem to have anything in common. Angela is an artist, ruled entirely by emotion and prone to flights of fancy. She's impulsive, passionate and free spirited. Almost Brennan's exact opposite in every way. That assumption, however, was void once you were on the inside. Once you could see for yourself just how well they got along. Brennan wasn't exactly impulsive and free spirited, but she was certainly passionate. Not something you would know about her instantly, but I have seen it first hand.

"What about you, Booth?"

The sound of my name draws me out of my reverie. I glance up to see Brennan's blue eyes fixed on my face. I think she must have asked me a question and I have absolutely no idea what it was. Great.

"What?" I ask

"Are you getting something to eat?" She asks me

"Yeah, pie," I answer immediately

"No, I mean something substantial. Pie alone isn't enough to …"

"Alright, Bones, I get it," I interrupt her, smiling, "I'll get something else. Happy?"

"Yes, but I don't see how my happiness has any correlation to what you decide to eat," She answers

There's a heart beat of nothing but silence, and then it is shattered as everyone at the table starts laughing. Brennan looks at us, her trademark confused expression contorting her face. Sometimes, I just can't help it; her complete ignorance at the hilarity of the situation makes it so much funnier.

"No, sweetie, it's an expression," Angela starts to explain, apparently the first to recover from her laughter, "He wasn't actually asking if you're happy. He was asking if his ordering something other than pie would make you happy."

"Why would that make me happy? I don't understand."

We're all laughing again. I think Cam is laughing so hard she might actually be crying. Bones still looks confused, but she doesn't seem upset that she seems to be missing the joke. After a few more seconds we've all recovered this time, and Angela is just about to start explaining again when the waitress comes to take our order. Everyone seems to know what they want, thankfully, and when the young woman looks at me expectantly I ask for a burger and a slice of pie. Conversation resumes when the woman is gone, but I see that Angela has decided not to continue her explanation.

"You okay, Booth?" Bones asks

"Yeah, Bones, I'm okay," I reply, smiling at her, "It's just been a long day."

"Yes," She says in her matter of fact way, nodding, "But not a bad one. We caught the killer, before he got to his next victim. That's something to be thankful for."

"Yes it is."

I don't tell her just how thankful I am that we caught that man. I don't tell her just how shaken I was in dealing with this case. The murderer, Hank Wright, was a psychopath who had taken to dissecting women as a way to deal with his repressed sexual urges. At first, he had seemed to choose his victims at random, but Hodgins had stumbled upon the truth. Wright chose his victims according to a certain body type and hair color. All three of his victims were tall, brunette women who had come into contact with on a day to day basis. That revelation alone had been enough to make me catch my breath with its implications toward my partner. When we discovered Wright's identity and his connection to the victim's, I had come dangerously close to losing it. Hank Wright had been a security guard in the Jeffersonian Museum. He had been so close to Bones …

"Are you sure you're alright, Booth?" My partner asks again

"Of course I am," I say automatically, smiling to reassure her, "Just a little tired I guess."

She's giving me that look, the one that says she knows there's something going on underneath but she's not sure what to do. Was she always that perceptive, or is it something she's picked up from me? Either way, I have no intention of letting her find out just how dark and twisted my thoughts can be sometimes. Besides, she would probably say that my desire to protect her was a result of some antiquated ritual that had no place in the modern day world. Despite her thoughts on the subject, I would not allow myself to tell her the truth: that no matter how unnecessary she thought it was, I simply had to protect her. I had to be sure that she was going to be alright, no matter what. Bones' safety is imperative to me, and no logical deduction is going to change that. I don't think there's anything that can change that, actually.

"Booth?"

I must have gotten lost in my mind again. That doesn't happen to me often, at least in front of others. I must be more tired than I thought.

"Yeah, Bones?"

She fixes her eyes on me, locking me into her gaze. The world around us becomes hazy, and my attention is focused fully on the woman before me. Moments pass with no words, the gravity of her expression wrapping itself around my being and tethering me to this moment. Those blue eyes spark at me and light a fire somewhere in my chest; if that spark were ever extinguished I don't know how the world could continue to turn …

"Stop it," She says gently, softly, only to me, "I know what you're thinking, Booth, but I was never in any danger. Wright worked in a completely different wing at the Jeffersonian. It's a big museum, and he was nowhere near us. Besides, we caught him."

She smiles at me, no doubt to reassure me. I can feel a reply bubbling in my throat, but I quench it immediately. She's getting good at this. I think I'll have to be more careful about what I give away in expressions.

"I know," I answer, smiling back, "Besides, if he had come after you, you could have just karate kicked his ass to the ground."

My answer garners a throaty chuckle from her. She reaches across the tabletop and squeezes my hand, an act that makes me feel better. The moment ends and she turns to Angela and picks up some conversation I must have missed. I'm quiet for a few more minutes, mulling over what Bones said. I have no idea how she knew what I was thinking, but that wasn't such a surprise. She always kept me guessing, Brennan. One minute she's baffled by references to pop culture and the next she's picking up on thoughts I've never voiced. The thought makes me want to laugh. Temperance Brennan: forensic anthropologist, best selling author, enigma. There's a bio to put on the back cover of her next book.

I let out a sigh and glance around the table at our - my- friends. Everyone is either smiling or laughing, obviously enjoying themselves. This is a great team, and it's going to stay that way as long as the center remains strong. Brennan and I, we're the center - and the center will hold.


End file.
